Child of Innocence Book 1
by DMartinez
Summary: Liz wakes up with no memory in an unfamiliar place in mysterious circumstances. John's just lost his wife, uprooted his family and struggled to find a life in this mess he's in. He was just supposed to help the girl…
1. Chapter 1

Author: DMartinez  
Email:  
Disclaimer: Characters portrayed in the following work belong to Kripke, Singer, Metz, Katims, WB, UPN, CW. No infringement intended.  
Summary: Supernatural/Roswell Crossover: AU without Aliens: Liz wakes up with no memory in an unfamiliar place in mysterious circumstances. Solving the mystery may take more strength than she's got but her new friends have experience in this arena. John's just lost his wife, uprooted his family and struggled to find a life in this mess he's in. He was just supposed to help the girl…  
Rating: Mature  
Pairing: John/Liz

Child of Innocence  
Book 1

Liz backed into a corner, Kivar approaching. He spat vile words at her, trying to break her down but she wouldn't. Nothing they could do to her could make her break. Nothing they did could make her forget who she was. Nothing. Not ever.

A bright blinding light filled the room and she felt nothing but air. Still air. Warm arms lifted her up. She fought at first but she was so tired, so very tired. And so she fell into the deepest sleep she could recall in what felt like years. Welcomed the oblivion it brought. Felt like she had been running for so very long and there was really nothing left to live for because Kivar had taken it all.

--

Liz woke on a bed of burlap sacks but oddly the most comfortable she had been in what felt like forever. Her eyes protested at the dim light in the room. Her legs felt like they were filled with jelly but she stood, wiping the grit from her eyes. She found a door then turned to look at the room behind her. It was bare save for the burlaps sacks laid upon a crude circle on the floor.

Pushing open the door, she watched carefully. No locks, no guards. Maybe she was safe. A cavalry had come to her aid. Maybe Kivar was dead… but she was still alone. Too afraid to call out, she made her way down a set of stairs as carefully as possible.

Liz peered into the room. There stood a young priest pouring a cup of tea, and another youngish man catering to two little boys. Cereal into a bowl with milk for the older one who looked all of 5 and dry cereal on a plate for the younger one around 2 or so. Both adorable. She watched as the man broke up the larger pieces of cereal, popping a marshmallow or two into his mouth as he went.

How people could live this way after the way the world had gone down the tubes amazed her but she always, always made sure she stopped to appreciate that she still could. Finally, her curiosity got the better of her. She cleared her throat, which startled both men and the older boy stopped eating to look at her. "Excuse me." Geez, she sounded awful. She cleared her throat again. "I uh… have no idea where I am but thanks for getting me out of there."

It was the priest who pulled it together first. "Did you sleep okay, Miss?"

"It's Liz and… Better than I have in years." She stepped fully into the room but didn't move farther when the younger man shifted his hand to his belt, where she assumed he had some sort of weapon.

"Where… What do you remember?" Odd way to ask a question.

"Nothing that I should say in front of those boys." She saw that they were waiting for her answer regardless of the children. "Kivar cornered me in that house I was in. I remember a bright light and then silence. I remember someone holding me and then I passed out. Then I woke up upstairs."

"Dad?" A small voice whispered. "Is that the dead lady?"

Liz paled. She assumed these men had something to do with the way she passed out. Had taken out Kivar but it was alarmingly clear that they had just found her somewhere. "Dead?" Then she watched her vision flash red and black and everything in between swirled and turned upside down before she lost consciousness once again.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Jim Murphy looked up when John Winchester grunted. Babe in arm and tyke in hand, John walked outside with his boys, leaving Jim to see to their guest who was awake if Jim had interpreted John's grunt accurately. She stumbled out of the room where he'd laid her to rest after her fainting spell. He led her to the table and spoke soft prayers while he tended to the bandages she had just noticed were on her hands. Deep scrapes. Then as he was covering her wounds once more, he addressed her. "My name is James Murphy. Known as Pastor Jim to my congregation." His hands were warm where they covered hers. "Do you remember anything?"

She shook her head. "No." Then she frowned and started to cry. "I don't remember anything. Not even my name."

"Let me help with that. When we spoke earlier, you said your name was Liz."

"Liz." She repeated and took a deep breath. Clinging to that fact.

"Liz, my friend and I found you dirty and your hands scraped. We brought you here to help you. Maybe there are people worried about you. People we can contact."

"I don't know. I don't remember." She shook her head, taking her hands back to rub her arms. "I… I feel alone."

"Where are your parents?" He pressed.

"I don't know."

"You seem so young to be without parents."

"Too young to lose my husband, too." She whispered and snapped her head up. "I don't know why I said that."

"Forgive me, Liz." He peered into her face and motioned at the window behind him for John to return to the kitchen. "You look no older than 15 or 16."

"I get that a lot. I'm 23."

"Somehow I think one or more of us are sorely mistaken."

Liz rose to look in a mirror she had seen in the foyer. She found herself to be neither 15 nor 23. She had no idea how old she truly was but she felt it, inside that she knew how old she looked. "How in the hell did this happen?" She traced her face, flawless. No pock marks, no scars, just a mole here and there. "I don't look a day over 20. How?"

"That's what we want to know." The voice boomed from behind her, the younger man, alone. His boys safely stowed somewhere. "We found you crawling out of a grave but you're not a zombie because you've got a pulse."

"I don't know." She shook her head, leaning against the wall and sliding down. "I don't know." She took a deep breath and looked up into the hazel eyes of one of the most intimidating men she could recall. That felt significant but she didn't know why. "Did the grave have a marker?"

"None that we could read." He shrugged and glanced away toward the kitchen.

"I died?"

"Seems that way."

"She could have been buried alive." Jim cut in.

"What year is it?" She asked carefully.

"1985." Jim answered. "Does that mean anything to you?" She only shook her head. "Liz, John's going to lend you some clothes until we can get yours washed or I can find something at the church for you to wear."

"Thanks for volunteering my clothes, Padre." John scoffed.

"Thank you, John. I appreciate it." Liz called his attention. "I think I smell pretty badly."

--

After she had showered, Pastor Jim had taken her to his office downstairs and explained a few things to her. The weapons on the walls and what they were for. The books on his desk. He eyed her carefully but she didn't reject his words offhand, neither did she call him crazy. She nodded as if she were simply learning something new. "My dear, I just want to make sure you understand why we're going to be watching you so carefully."

"So, your friend John knows about this too." She nodded to herself while she walked the room and examined its walls. "The boys?"

"I'm not sure what exactly they know. Obviously they're a little young for this." He laid his hands on her shoulders. "We're going to help you but first, I have a mass to give."

--

Liz watched the sky. The air far colder than she felt she was used to… even drowning in John's clothes the way she was. The smell of man and motor oil surrounded her. She could hear the little boy vrooming his toy car all over the porch behind her. Could hear the baby giving John a hard time from inside the house. Could hear Jim's voice as he gave his sermon in the chapel behind the house.

Finally, all the stillness got to her and she had to make some noise. "Hey kid. What's your name?" He didn't answer. She turned to watch him play. His vrooms were much softer than they were before. The circles he made with the car not so broad. "Where's your mom?"

She wished she hadn't said anything when she saw all the blood drop out of his little face. He went absolutely still. She scooted over. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. Just you, your brother and your dad, huh?" It seemed like the boy had just started breathing again. He didn't move though. "Looks like you've got a great dad. How old are you?"

"He's six." John's voice boomed behind her. The boy rushed to his side. A thick eyebrow shot up at her. "Dean?"

"It's my fault. I said the 'M' word."

"He was four when she died. He just started talking again." John turned his face away, cheeks coloring as if he were embarrassed to admit that information. Maybe because he had never intended to open his mouth in the first place.

"Dean, huh, that's a good name." She peered at the boy hiding behind his father's leg. "Bet you're a good big brother."

As if on cue, and not to be outdone by his big brother, Sam hiccupped. Liz rose to her feet to get a look at the baby. He was a hefty two years of age but still looked very much like a baby. John seemed uncomfortable with the attention she paid to his boys but did not speak against it, though Liz felt it was on the tip of his tongue to bark at her the way he had when she had first woken up.

"They're adorable, John. Hey, Sammy."

The baby tilted himself until John had the choice of either rushing to catch him or to relinquish his son into her arms, which turned out to be slightly comical as she struggled to hold the child half her size. Sammy babbled as he twisted her hair around in his sticky fist. Dean tugged on his father's arm, green eyes pleading with him to take Sammy back from this girl.

Liz gazed at his reddened hazel eyes that matched his father's but his hair was sandier, like his brothers. "She was blonde?"

John nodded silently, eyes gone far away, wet sheen took them over. Then Dean rushed over, stomped on her foot and took off running for the driveway. Liz bent over, her arms secure around baby Sammy but the pain. Oh good Lord the pain in her foot. John's jaw dropped for a moment then he took off after his six-year-old. Liz eased herself to the porch once more. How she wished she had been wearing shoes. Her toes screamed and Sammy laughed. Not because she was in pain but because John had skidded on the gravel drive while trying to catch his errant son who had darted between two parked cars. Then John stood up, brushed himself off and took a deep breath. "Dean Winchester! Front and center!"

Surprisingly, the boy did as ordered and crawled out from underneath the car he'd chosen for cover and stood like a little soldier before his very tall father. He said something that Liz couldn't catch. John knelt, placed his hands on the boy's shoulders, whispered something, then cupped the boy's face. Making reassurances, she assumed.

When the duo returned to the porch, Sammy held his arms up to be picked up by his father, who did so with the weary expression of many a young parent. "Thanks for holding onto him."

"You've got your hands full." She nodded to him. He rolled his eyes and nodded, guiding his boys into the house. Dean made a face at her, which earned him a light tap on the back of the head from his father. "Dean?" The boy glanced up at his father then back to her. "Girls aren't all gross. We don't carry germs."

John laughed and it made something twist in Liz's stomach. "Let's not get him started on girls too soon."

She watched them disappear inside the building before cradling her injured foot, the pain just a dull throb now inside her borrowed sock.

--

Liz examined the cut of her clothes once she was dressed in her own clothes again. Simple. Cheap. Jeans and a blouse with a loose neckline and simple heeled boots. Her hair drove her nuts. It hung too long to be manageable but she did manage to tame it down enough to be presentable. She joined the men for dinner. Jim turned out to be an excellent cook of the simple foods that made her mouth water with hunger. Dinner was a silent affair after the blessing until Dean begrudgingly left his chair to face her. Six years old and defiant to the bone. "I'm sorry I stomped your foot." Then he pulled a flower from inside his little flannel shirt. "Here."

Liz smiled at the sorry little thing. "Thank you, Dean." Then she quickly cupped his face and planted a kiss on his face. As expected, he scrambled away back to his chair, wiping his face off with his sleeve. John and Jim chuckled at his antics.

"Da!" Sammy shrieked, not seeming to like any attention off of him. John obediently turned to cut up Sammy's dinner.

Jim cleared his throat. "Liz, I did some research this morning. That grave marker is several hundred years old. Possibly the first buried in these parts who could afford a cheap stone. There was a man buried there."

Something unclenched in Liz's chest. "So, someone put me there."

"It's looking likely that way." He patted her hand. "We'll keep looking into it but I'm not going to start talk in town. I've told some folks that you're a distant relative of mine who has come on hard times. I'd like you to stay until we figure out what's going on."

There was little else that she could do. If she refused his hospitality, she would be slapping him in the face after all he'd done so far. If she refused, she had nowhere else to go. "Thank you, Pastor Jim." She took a deep breath. "I'll help where I can. I don't know what it is that I do."

"Memory's still fuzzy then?" John asked in that gruff manner of his. All arched eyebrow and steely gaze.

"Still fuzzy. Half the stuff that comes to me is pretty random. I find myself saying things that I know should mean something but… they don't." She shrugged, smearing mashed potatoes around on her plate. "I keep going over all the stuff you said I said when I woke up the first time but none of it makes any sense."

"I think it's very likely this Kevad person you spoke of attacked you and buried you. It was probably all chance that we arrived when we did and you had the strength to climb out of that grave at all." Jim was very sincere in his words and Liz wanted to believe she was safe.

"Knowing a little more about you might prove useful to finding out who did this." John clucked his tongue and pointed to Dean before the boy could slide off his chair. The boy slid right back into his chair and poked at his green beans.

"Yeah, I'd like to know a little more, too." She gave him a wan smile and tried to concentrate on eating.

"We'll pray for answers." Jim assured her.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Liz watched Jim and John research in dusty old tomes piled high in his study downstairs. Lots of interesting things in that study. She didn't like it so much. Weapons were not high on her favored items. After a week of playing with the baby, trying to get Dean to open up and enduring those steely gazes from John, Liz had had enough. It got boring. She was sick of wearing hand-me-downs from Jim's parishioners and the occasional shirt she borrowed from John.

Walking into town, she found a little diner with a help wanted sign. She pitched in for the lunch rush. She got paid in cash. It took her mind off her plight. She was welcome to return for the breakfast frenzy. Waitressing came natural it seemed. She filed that away while she went window shopping. Stepped into the Goodwill for some basic items that would have her in her own clothes and not borrowing so much. Then she caught her reflection. She almost didn't recognize herself. Who she was expecting she didn't know but it wasn't who looked back at her. She didn't want to dress like other women her alleged age. The trend was bright and colorful but Liz didn't feel right in lime green or taxi cab yellow. She had opted for plain Jane. Her hair was so long but felt wrong. With the last of her waitressing cash, she stepped into a barber shop about to close up and begged off a quick haircut. Even offered to sweep up the mess herself while he closed up and turned off the sign.

Eyeing her reflection in the window, she looked nothing like she had when she had strolled into town. She didn't know if it felt right but it was different enough that she could cope better with her situation without looking like a damsel in distress all the time. After her long day, she returned to Pastor Jim's in time to help with dinner. He passed a disapproving gaze over the length of her denim skirt but didn't say a word other than to compliment her hair cut.

"I was thinking of working at the diner on Main for a bit. They only need part time help but… it's something to help me get on my feet." Liz shrugged as she chopped carrots and shredded lettuce for a salad.

"I know it's frustrating. I admire your fortitude." He nodded to her. He heard the swish of liquid and turned to see that John was getting an early start this evening. He almost asked John to wash up and pitch in a hand but something in the way his eyes ran over Liz's form at the counter stayed his tongue. "I'm sure you'd like to get out into town without John's children underfoot."

"No, I don't mind." She smiled to herself as she reached for a tomato. "They're very sweet boys. Sammy's energy is tireless and Dean… he sees… everything. He just amazes me. At least he's stopped stomping on my feet at every chance."

"He's a boy." Jim apologized for the miscreant. "But he is a good boy." Jim cleared his throat. "John? I know we haven't gotten anywhere on Liz's research…" Liz turned to smile and wave at him as she dumped the tomatoes in the salad bowl. "But how much time are you able to give to us?"

"Some. The Impala's screeching. I'll need to save some money to fix her up." John polished off his bottle and crossed the room to throw it out.

"You and the boys are always welcome." Jim nodded.

"I appreciate it, Jim." John returned the nod and had to scoot passed Liz to get at a new bottle of beer in the fridge. He laid his hand on her shoulder to steady himself while he shut the door and held onto the bottle with the other. Stepping back, he twisted the cap off and tossed into the trash. "What's the name of the school?"

"I'll take you and the boys tomorrow." Jim blinked at his friend. "How long is it going to take to get the part?"

"Better part of a month." John shrugged. "And that's if I can get it ordered on credit. If not, it'll be a month after I hand over the cash. You know how that goes."

"Jude Hampton's got a garage…" Jim cleared his throat. "He'll take you on and pay you fair. Maybe even give you garage time to work on the car."

"Yeah, I know. But the boys…" John flicked his eyes down to his bottle.

"I can watch the boys if you need to take a shift." Liz offered. "I think I might be a babysitter."

"Dinner's almost ready." Jim announced, not taking his eyes off of John. "Why don't you get the boys washed up? John and I will set the table." When she had gone, John tipped the bottle into his mouth and gulped long. Jim crossed his arms. "Well? What was that all about?"

"I need to see her, Jim." John pleaded.

"I don't think it will help you any." He stared at him, eyes reddened from the alcohol that he had been drinking since much earlier than Jim could accurately guess. "It always ends in heartache and nothing changes. You never learn anything new." Taking a deep breath, he gestured to the dining room. Jim didn't know if he had the strength to endure the ritual, forget the aftermath of the ritual which was to watch John spiral further into the bottle. "Go set the table, John. I don't want to scar our guest so early in her stay unless necessary."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Tired and weary from his second week of full days at the garage, John walked into the house to the faded smells of dinner. Jim was locked in his study preparing his sermon, so John settled himself for some lukewarm leftovers and a bottle of beer. The house was quiet, almost too quiet. Finishing quickly, he took the stairs to the room he shared with the boys where Liz had Sammy in her lap and Dean on the floor. Dean pretended not to be interested in the story but paused far too often in playing not to be listening to the story. Sammy patted the book's pictures and repeated Liz's words.

Liz looked up and smiled. "We're in the middle of the story, John. Go on and get cleaned up. We'll be done by the time you're out."

"Dad!" Dean leapt from the floor and launched himself at his father's legs. "The teacher says I gotta have a meeting with you next week."

"I was going to save that for later." Liz winced. "I took the note from his teacher. It's on your dresser."

John nodded and patted Dean's head before stepping into the room to gather clean clothes and the note. He disappeared into the bathroom as Charlotte explained to Wilbur about the life of spiders. Running the shower to let the water warm, John folded open the note. "Mr. Winchester, I am very concerned for Dean's wellbeing. He draws nothing but fires and shadow figures. Please schedule a meeting immediately."

Taking that thought, he climbed into the shower to wash off the sweat and grease. Fresh clothes on, dirty clothes in the hamper, he examined his reflection. How he didn't look as old as he felt, he'd never know. Barefoot, he tramped back to the room where Liz was putting a bookmark in Charlotte's Web and Sammy snoozing draped over her. Dean had climbed into his bed but was fiddling with a fire truck.

Gently, he picked Sammy up off her, careful not to brush against anything he shouldn't as he did so. Holding Sammy against his chest, like a shield, he sat on the end of the bed. Then he felt Sammy's bottom. No diapers. He shot a glance to Liz. "Pastor Jim and I have been taking him to the potty and Dean's helping to show him how the big boys go."

"Are you gonna make him wear the plastic pants?" Dean asked from his bed, still spinning the tires on the truck.

"That's up to your dad."

"Maybe not." John shook his head. "He'll have to learn to get up at night."

"Daddy, he peed all over Pastor Jim's shoes." Dean giggled.

"You peed all over your…" John let the sentence die there. Mary's face had been priceless though. "He'll get the hang of it, kiddo."

"Okay, I'm gonna let you guys get to bed." Liz rose, tugging down her skirt. John had to force himself not to look right at that expanse of thigh. Or at her rear when she knelt over Dean to say goodnight. He was able to grin when Dean wiped the kiss off his forehead, which was unfortunate for him when Liz returned to kiss Sammy goodnight and nearby bumped foreheads with her. "Night Sammy. Night John."

"Goodnight." John nodded, swallowing down a lump that he wasn't ready to admit was there. Jim had caught him staring once or twice but hadn't remarked on it. John wasn't willing to go there. He could look. He was human… and it had been a long time. When she was gone, he took a moment before rising and laying Sammy down next to Dean. "Time for bed, kiddo."

"Night, Dad." Dean nodded and wrapped himself around Sammy before closing his eyes.

John turned out the lights and lay down to sleep but he knew it wouldn't come.

--

Jim watched John watching Liz. A whole month of John and his boys sitting still and it was due to her. Solving this mystery about the girl who crawled out of a grave with no memory. She took a real shine to the boys but only Sammy returned the affection. Dean didn't seem to like her as much but allowed her liberties no other woman had been allowed in two years.

Liz hung the laundry on the line while John cursed the busted dryer on the back porch. Dean sat perched on top, peering down into what his father worked on. Sammy ran around singing to himself and chasing leaves that blew around in the breeze. Then she dove to stop him from shoving a beetle into his mouth. "No, Sammy. Don't eat that."

The baby's response was to throw a handful of leaves in her hair. Then he was being led away by Dean to the porch where John was shaking his head. Liz got up and shook the leaves out, which made Sammy giggle. She made quick work of hanging the rest of the laundry then scooped up Sammy and grabbed Dean's hand. "Come on, guys, let's go see if the diner has pie. We can bring some back to your dad and Pastor Jim." They both looked to their father, who sighed and rested his elbows on the top of the dryer. "John, any preference?"

"Pecan?" John ached at the picture they made. "Boys, behave for Liz."

The trek was a slow one as Sammy had to examine every rock and tree along the way. Dean's hand quickly became sweaty but Liz thought it was nervousness. He still didn't speak much to anyone but John. They welcomed the chance to sit and examine the pie glass at the diner after the longer than necessary walk. Her boss smiled at them, tilting her head. "Liz, can't stay away?"

"Promised the boys some pie." She grinned. "Happen to know what Pastor Jim likes?"

"Pastor Jim is a fan of pie but I've seen that he's partial to lemon meringue." Angela opened the glass to cut a slice for a to-go box. "What about these handsome young men?"

"I like apple." Dean piped up and then sank down in his stool until just his eyes were visible.

"How about Sammy, Dean?" Liz ruffled his hair.

"He likes apple, too." Dean mumbled.

"Two apples, coming up." Angela grinned at him.

"Daddy said he wanted pecan, right?" Liz asked him just to get a response out of him.

"Yuh-huh." Then he turned wide green eyes on her. "What about you? What kind are you getting?"

"Oh… I don't know…" Liz stared at the glass. Suddenly, she realized that she didn't know what kind of pie she liked. "I don't know."

"You can get pecan like Daddy." Dean proclaimed and then ducked back into his position of eyes only over the counter.

Angela reached over and rubbed Liz's arm. "Everybody likes my pecan pie."

"I guess pecan it is." Liz gave her a wan smile. "I think that's our order for tonight."

"Can we eat our pie here?" Dean popped his head up again.

"I think we'll take everyone's pie back and eat it together… after dinner." She pinched his nose. "So we can make Daddy think it was a surprise for fixing the dryer."

"Yeah, okay." Dean pouted.

Liz lifted Sammy onto her lap while she counted out the money for the pie. Angela picked up the bills, refusing the tip and leaned on the counter. "You ain't… seeing that Winchester fellow, are you?"

"No." She tilted her head at her boss.

"These are his kids?"

"Well, yeah but…"

"I'd steer clear of him. Runs rough and rowdy at Stan's bar across the tracks."

"I'm not seeing anybody, Angela." Liz motioned to the kids. "I babysit. He's friends with Pastor Jim. Jim's letting me stay. The least I can do is help out with these two."

"Be careful, Liz. Lost memory or no… it's no excuse not to have your wits about you." She handed the box over. "It's not the first time he's come to town. He won't stay long."

The walk back was short, it seemed. Dean helping to keep Sammy in line. The boys were sweaty and tired by the time they started up the gravel drive. They found John lounging on the front porch, empty bottle beside him, face turned up into the sun. Liz had to catch her breath for a minute when he smiled suddenly, and then he leapt up to catch Sammy who squealed in delight. Pastor Jim took the sack from Liz to refrigerate until after dinner. She followed Dean's path to the porch. "Who won? John Winchester or the dryer?"

"Sad to say but the dryer did." John held up his hand, a bandage road the back of it, crimson marred the center. "Jim and I are picking up the new one on Monday."

"Well, let's hope it doesn't rain on the laundry until then." She smiled up at him before tweaking Sammy's nose and walking off to check on the clothesline.

John watched her walk away and found himself searching for something to say to her. Nothing came. Dean tugged on his hand to get his attention. "What's running rough and rowdy?"

"What?" John stared down at him.

"Liz's boss says you run rough and rowdy at the bar."

"Don't worry about it, kiddo." John sighed heavily. He hadn't been to the bar in a while but… he had stirred up a mess the last time he was there. He bent and snatched up his empty and herded his boys into the house. Jim nodded to John and tilted his head at the weary expression on his friend's face after the peaceful way he'd been sent out to the front porch an hour before.

Meatloaf, potatoes and peas for dinner. John was silent. The boys talked all about their walk. Jim egged them on as Dean was rarely this talkative… ever. Then Liz cleared the dishes before bringing out the pie. Jim grinned when his lemon meringue was placed before him. "Tell Angela that it's still delicious but I will not take the title away from poor Mrs. Aberman."

Liz laughed and nodded that she would. "Here you go, John. Angela assures me that her pecan pie is the best in the county."

"So is her apple pie, her peach cobbler, her cherry cobbler and her lemon meringue." Jim lifted his fork. "No one ever made pie except for Angela."

"Thanks Liz… for taking the boys with you." John nodded sincerely.

"Oh, it was my pleasure." She grinned at Dean, seated across the table from her. "So, I have a question for you."

"What's that?" John looked up from his pie, which was pretty danged good.

"Do you just like rock or Paul Rodgers in particular?"

"How's that?" He shook his head.

"I'm just judging from the expansive lyric collection in Dean's head that you've either got a thing for the tunes you listened to in high school or are a particular fan of Paul Rodgers."

"Little of both, I guess." He shrugged. He bowed his head with Jim cleared his throat. "Guess he takes after the old man. Tell her who your favorite band is."

"Zeppelin Rules!" Dean blurted out around a mouthful of apple pie.

John grinned and then helped Sammy to finish off his slice of pie. Not even the sugar high could keep the baby from crashing right there at the table. Taking the boy into his arms, John took his boys' plates to the kitchen where Jim was getting started. Liz touched John's arm. "John, go get him settled. I'll get the dishes."

John nodded then trudged upstairs with his heavier by the day load. He laid Sammy down in the bed. The boy was tired out by seven… and that was a rare gift.

When he returned downstairs, Jim was cleaning up the table and Liz was washing the dishes while Dean read out loud from one of his school books... So John took up a towel to do the drying. He listened Liz teach Dean without belittling him. To her guide him and keep him interested in the text. He knew that Dean often fell behind because they moved so much.

"Dean, sound that word out. Take it one letter at a time." Liz guided gently.

"K-K… Ko… Con…gr… at… Congrats."

"Good job, buddy." John called over his shoulder. Dean grinned and read with more confidence. Liz nudged him when suddenly Dean was a pro at reading. "He catches on fast."

"Last year, we tried him at bible stories. None of this luck." Jim cut in when he entered the kitchen. "All our Lord's stories were lost to him."

"He's always been that way, Jim. Don't take it personal. Used to fall asleep in church when he was a baby, too." John laughed.

"Winchester men and their lack of faith. It's a trial of my time." Jim shook his head. "Come young Dean. Enough learning for now. I hear there's a Fall Guy on television."

"You're going to rot your brain with that crap." John swatted Dean with a dish towel on his rush to the living room.

"He's a smart kid. He might have some brain cells to spare." Liz joked.

Jim and Dean left the kitchen for the thrill of primetime and left Liz and John to finish the dishes. John paused with a towel inside a pot. "Thanks… for taking them today. Really. I was in a pissy mood from dawn. I was… pretty close to throwing one or both of 'em over a fence."

Liz bit back a laugh. "John… I haven't known you very long but I already know that patience is not one of your virtues and… still, you've got more patience than you think when it comes to those two."

"Today, it almost failed me."

"You're a good father." She gave him a sideways hug. "Anyone can see it."

John froze but hugged her back. "Sometimes… I'd tear my eyes out just for some adult company and… I forget how to talk to people."

"It happens." She looked up at him. "Jim gave me the highlights on what happened to your wife." She cut him off when he looked upset. "I asked him… after the thing with Dean's drawings. I just wanted to understand." She turned to watch Dean watching TV. "When I think of that and the little boy who stomped on my foot and… the way he was today… He's amazing, John. Just… amazing."

"Yeah, he is." John finished drying in silence, then joined the others for some late night TV. Cringing when he thought of the previous spring when he'd put a gun in his son's hands and asked him to shoot bottles off a fence. Of how proud he'd been when Dean had busted every one of them. Of how low he'd sunk when his six year old would come to him in the middle of the night to comfort his own father instead of the other way around. Yes, Dean Winchester was an amazing little boy. Far more amazing than he should have had to be.

Four beers later, John knew he should have stopped two beers ago. He tucked Dean into bed with a beer in his hand. What kind of father was he? He stumbled out of their room and nearly ran into Liz in the hallway coming out of the bathroom. She steadied him against a wall, slipped the bottle out of his loose grip and set it on the ground. She followed him down when he lost his legs. Cupped his face to catch his attention. Saw the tears and held him while they came.

When the sobs and tears silenced themselves, John leaned back against the wall and found the beer to polish it off. Let Liz dry the tears on his face with her hands. Let her whispers attempt to soothe the ache that was two years old. There they sat. A man with no future and a woman with no past, arms and legs tangled around each other's in a preacher's house.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

John started taking his lunch break at the diner on Main St. He didn't get much conversation out of Liz during the rush but the squeeze of his shoulder in passing was needed during the days when he wanted to pick up and leave town just for wanderlust's sake. He had promised to help solve the mystery of Liz and he would.

Occasionally, Liz took her break at his table and divulged little things she had discovered during the day. Little of it useful. "So, I hate mayo. I think I must have always hated mayo." She'd prop her feet up on his leg, stretch and say something like, "I know every song on the jukebox. Every one. Even the new ones." Sometimes, he'd work a half day and he'd take Liz and Sammy to lunch in the school cafeteria so that Dean could be like the other kids.

John caught the looks from Angela, the diner's owner. He knew what she thought of him. Maybe he had punched out her brother in his bar once. He was drunk and mad but it was six months ago and they needed to move on. Liz dropped a slice of fresh pecan pie off at his table and "So, I made this really awesome thing today."

John stared at the small rug she handed him. "You made this."

"Yeah, I was playing with this toy this little girl left here and I made that… Looks… I don't know…"

"This is Native American. Couldn't tell you what tribe." He shrugged. "Maybe you grew up near a reservation."

"Maybe." She tilted her head. "There are a lot of those… all over though, right?"

"Yeah, and not really so much in this part of Minnesota." John studied the lines and shapes. "Doesn't look like anything from this part of the country, actually."

"Hm… Interesting. I'm not from around here." Liz walked off to bus her tables. He rolled his eyes and tucked into his pie. Women. He was never going to understand them. Never in a hundred years.

--

Liz stroked Dean's hair out of his face and he let her. "Your dad will come and get us, Dean." He nodded against her chest. She was some babysitter. Came on foot to pick up Dean, who was so sick that he couldn't walk. She had fallen and twisted her ankle when she attempted to carry him. It was, so far, a perfect day; sitting in front of the elementary school with a sick boy in her arms, her ankle throbbing, waiting on a man with no clue. No clue at all.

The Impala rumbled into her bones before she even caught sight of it. John leapt out of the driver's side. "What happened?"

"He's running a fever and I've incapacitated myself as a waitress and a babysitter." She showed off her black and purple ankle.

"Okay, so to the house it is." John picked up Dean first and settled him in the passenger seat. When he turned to collect Liz, he found her on her feet. "Don't be stupid. You can't walk on that." He scooped her up and carried her to the car.

Liz rolled her eyes. No clue at all. She endured the ride to Pastor Jim's. Let John cave-man her into the house. She and Dean ended up on the couch in the den. Her foot up on the arm with an ice pack and Dean in her arms with a blanket and the remote. He made a face when he took the medicine doled out by the Pastor but didn't complain… much. She read him story after story. Made some up when she ran out of books within reach.

Sometime that afternoon, she heard John and Jim talking from the other room. Dean was draped all over her, fast asleep. She had no hope of getting up for a better listen. John's voice boomed. "I've looked everywhere. The only thing that we had was that stupid potholder she made. They say it's common. Any idiot with a practice loom can make one. It doesn't mean anything."

"John… maybe we found her for a reason." Jim tried to calm John but John wasn't having it.

"Like what? We know nothing about her. Her description hasn't tripped alarms anywhere. She just crawled out of a grave… one that wasn't even hers."

"John… Maybe some cruel man misused her until he couldn't anymore. Maybe he thought he killed her. Maybe he buried her any convenient place to be rid of her." He let out a ragged breath. "A good soul like hers, I've not seen in years. Not in our world. She reads the books with us. Sees the darkness and still, she can see the light. Let her be, John. Don't force her to recall what she shouldn't."

"You would condemn her to wander through her life not knowing what has brought her here?"

"I would let her build a new life with people who care about her."

Liz hugged Dean to her chest and willed sleep to come upon her again. Anything not to be the subject of such a heated argument. Anything to forget that she had forgotten. Then Sammy toddled into the room, gaining speed as he went to give her kisses. "Hi Sammy."

Wet Sammy kisses all over her forehead. She couldn't help but laugh. "Yiz."

"What'd you say?"

"Yiz, Yiz." Sammy slobbered another kiss onto her nose.

"Sammy?" John turned the corner and tilted his head at the picture before him. "Worse than water boarding, huh."

Liz laughed as Sammy was picked up and deposited on his father's knee when John sat on the floor next to the couch. John rubbed the back of his hand over Dean's forehead. "Still high?"

"Feels the same." John nodded then turned to examine her ankle. "Swelling's down."

"Feels better."

Jim watched them from the doorway. The way John's hand slid from her ankle to her knee, massaging as she ribbed him for being such a sucker for his kids. Dean started to wake up at the sound of their laughter. Liz covered John's mouth to keep from waking him fully.

"I'll trade you." John set Sammy down and picked up Dean. "Come on, son. Time for bed and more medicine."

Liz sat up and let Sammy climb onto the couch next to her. He picked up a book and gave it to her. "Of course, young man. Sammy must have his story time, too."

She was restricted to the couch much of the evening. Having her very own Winchester chauffeur to the bathroom and to the dinner table. Pastor Jim eventually took over Sammy duty and let John relax downstairs before Dean eventually woke up crying. Liz lay on the couch with her feet propped up on his thigh, his hands massaging the bruised flesh.

It was late. Sammy in John's bed, asleep. Dean in the boys' bed, knocked out on Children's Tylenol. Pastor Jim had long taken to his study for research, leaving John and Liz to Johnny Carson on low volume. Finally, Liz had to say something. It had been building all day and she hadn't known it until that moment. Sitting up and taking her foot back, she laid a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. "John."

"You should keep the foot elevated until the swelling is completely gone." He chided without breaking his sights from Johnny's harassment of some poor guest.

"In a minute, John." She squeezed his arm where it lay on the back off the couch. His face swung around to fix his gaze on her, all furrowed eyebrows and concerned hazel eyes. "I've been thinking… and… I know that you and Jim promised that you were going to figure out where I came from or help get my memory back but…"

"I will." He promised, turning his body to face hers.

"John, I know that you would have rather left two months ago. I could see it in your face that day I woke up. Don't let me keep you here. I know that you have things to do." She shrugged helplessly. "I may never remember and the way things are going… I don't really want to."

He looked away, rolling his shoulders in that awkward position. "Dean's just started in school again. He's just caught up… I don't want to let him fall behind again."

Liz stared at him. It was lame excuse disguised as a good excuse. She could tell from the way his eyes wandered. "Okay, good. He needs that. He's doing so well." And that was just as lame. "Just… don't feel like you have to waste all your down time on me."

"You don't… want to know?" He fixed her with that stare. The one that drove her nuts and to distraction and out of her freaking mind.

"No. I don't know. Maybe I don't." She shrugged. "I'm enjoying myself, John. I like waitressing here. The people in Blue Earth are so nice. I love Jim to death… and I love your kids. I can honestly say that I will never be the same due just to your boys." She smiled softly and nudged him in the ribs with her fist. "I honestly love our lunches with Dean at school. He's just such an amazing boy and he saves it all for you. The second you walk in the door, it's like… his faces lights up and he beams it out. "That's my Dad." Capital D… and it's so… wonderful to see with all the crap he watches on TV and all the heroes he wants to be like… and you're still the top of his list. Over Superman and Batman and… all the rest."

John felt his face go a deep red. "Well, I'm no Superman, that's for certain."

"Well, to some people you are." She really smiled, hooking her finger in around a button on his shirt to continue ribbing him. "He listens to every word you say and he commits it to memory. I've never seen a boy love his father so much."

John wrapped his hand around hers to cease her knuckling his chest and let loose a harsh laugh. "Yeah, I know. It worries me sometimes."

"Really?"

"After the way we lost his mother… I feel like now his whole focus is on me because he… maybe he thinks if he loves me enough, he won't lose me too." He dropped her hand to rub the wetness out of his eyes.

"It hasn't really been that long, John. Give him time to adjust to life without her. Give yourself time." She cupped his face to make him look at her. "John, despite the inclinations of a certain six-year-old, you are only human."

John slid his hand over her hand. She bit her lip, tilting her face against his arm. She might have opened her mouth to say his name, to protest, but no sound came. Not when his other hand cupped the back of her head. Not when his face was inches from hers. Not until they were sharing the same breath. "John…"

His lips slid over hers, pressing and urging her mouth to open. Liz grasped at his shoulder to keep him near, so she could be closer. Her breath shuddered out of her before she inhaled nothing but John. Felt the couch beneath her back but then nothing but John covering her. Then it all came to a screeching halt.

"Daddy…" the whine came from the staircase.

John broke from her mouth to look to his sick son. Then he was on his feet and scooping Dean up to take him to the kitchen. Liz took a moment to collect her breath before hobbling after them. She watched John pop the thermometer into Dean's mouth while he measured out more medicine. "Look alive, dude. Gotta get that temp down."

Liz smiled bitterly then started her long trek upstairs, using the banister to keep her weight off her foot. She had just settled herself in bed with her foot on a pillow when she heard them down the hall. Dean whining that he could walk on his own. Dean swearing that he was never taking that yucky medicine again. Dean complaining that he wanted to sleep in John's bed and not Sammy. The rumble of John's voice as he softly answered questions and gave orders.

Liz listened in the dark as John tried to settle Dean back into sleep. The boy resisted and whined. Then Sammy woke up and John sounded so out of sorts that she hobbled down to his room where he had Dean in his arms and a hand on Sammy's back. He looked so close to tears the floods almost broke behind her eyes. It was all too much to take in one night. She hobbled in, kissed John's mouth softly, then picked up Sammy to take to her room. John made to protest but she put a finger to his lips and kept walking, or limping rather, back to her room.

Sammy settled comfortably in the cooler, quieter room, allowing Liz to prop her foot up once more. She didn't know when exactly she fell asleep but when she woke, Sammy was already gone. She limped down to John's room but found it empty. When she made it downstairs, she found Dean curled up on the couch with a mug of tea and Sammy feeding John cereal on the floor and cartoons on the TV.

John looked like he'd gotten a little sleep at least. She hobbled in and kissed Dean's much cooler forehead. He was so tired, he didn't bother to wipe it off. Liz settled next to John on the floor, socked foot on the coffee table, and let Sammy feet her a handful of cereal. She tilted her head at John. "Long night?"

"Not as long as it could have been." He admitted. "Thanks for taking Sammy."

"How do you do this on the road, John?"

"I… lose my temper. I yell at the boys. I make them cry and we all pass out, miserable and sick."

Further conversation was halted by Sammy's potty needs. Dean chose that moment to snap to attention. He stared hard at Liz on the floor next to the couch. "My mom was a tall lady. You're not as tall as she was."

"Really?" Liz blinked at him.

"She had gold hair and eyes like me. Yours are brown."

"Yep. I do not look like your mom, then." She shook her head, slanting a glance at him.

"My dad kissed her all the time."

"I'll bet." Narrowed her eyes at him.

"My dad says he'll always love my mom. My mom's best friend says that my mom is always gonna watch out for me and my dad and Sammy. She's always going to be with us."

Another child, with a more innocent voice, would have been endearing in those words. Liz felt she was being threatened by Dean's tone, by the expression on his face but the wet in his eyes reminded her that he was six years old and had seen his mother die at far too young an age. He was marking his territory in a manner far older than his years but was clinging to the emotions of the child he really was. Turning to face him, Liz rubbed his chest, playfully. "Yes, she will. Think it's okay if I help her out?"

"How?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Your mom might be an angel and all but… we can't see her. We can't touch her."

"Yeah, so?"

"What if… she wants to give you a hug?" Liz watched his eyes fill and immediately felt bad for trying this tack. "Can I give you one for her?"

"How do I know if it's a hug from her… or a hug from you?" His eyes dried quickly, as if they were never going to spill over to begin with.

"Why can't it be from both of us?"

"Cause you didn't know my mom." His chin jutted out and his lips came together in a deep pout.

"No, but I know you and I know your dad."

"Well, he's my dad and you better keep your hands off."

"Dean…" She sighed and let it be about what it was really about. "Your dad and I are friends-"

"He's too old for you."

That made her laugh because it was partly true. If she was anywhere as young as she looked, then it was possible that John had at least 10 years on her. She really wanted to rub his face in something good but had to remind herself that he was six and he was afraid his father was going to forget his mother. "I will make you a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"We'll spit shake on it." Somewhere in her memory, she knew the importance of spit-shakes to little boys.

"What are your terms?" Dean set his mug on the coffee table.

"I won't kiss him first."

"What's that mean?"

"If anyone kisses anybody. Your dad will have to kiss me first. I will not kiss him first. I will not make the first move."

"And you can't make him want to kiss you." Dean laid out his terms.

"What if he kisses me anyway?"

"If he's sick, he's excused. Dad says high fevers cause hallucinations."

"You are one smart kid." Liz spit on her hand and held it out. "I won't kiss first. I won't make him want to kiss me and… any fever-induced kisses will be ruled null and void and I will not interpret as kissing first."

"Deal." He hocked a wad into his hand and slapped it against hers in a firm shake.

"Deal." She looked him over. Tough little guy. "Let's go wash up and check your temp and see if Pastor Jim wants us to do anything for him today."

"I'm tired." Dean shook his head.

"Okay, sleepyhead."

"I think Sammy's getting the hang of this potty chair business." John's voice boomed into the room before he and Sammy appeared. Sammy riding high on his father's shoulders. He looked between the two of them. "Did we miss something?"

"Um…" Liz looked to Dean. "Dean was just telling me about this angel who watches over him. Some… tall, blonde lady… answers to the name of Mom." She felt Dean tense but reached over and ruffled his hair. "I was just saying how lucky he must be to have his own angel."

John's smile faded a bit and he flipped a giggly Sammy onto the ground. "Yeah, Dean's pretty lucky." He nodded to the boys. "Can you keep an eye on them? I gotta go in for a couple of hours at the shop."

"Yeah." Liz frowned up at him. "Sure."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

John waded through his life for a whole week. Liz was cool towards him after those few kisses they'd shared. Dean had spent the week in Mary-land. Drawing pictures of the family. Drawing pictures of the family plus Jim. Odd comments on if Mary would even like Liz because Liz was a waitress. Or because Liz was weird because she didn't remember anything. John put it down to the high fever that Dean had had. Maybe he had thought it was his mother holding him all day instead of Liz. Maybe he had wanted it to be his mother instead of Liz.

There was work at the garage. Tedium. Researching with Jim. Led nowhere. Playing with the boys… and feeling empty despite it. Liz worked all week. She had maybe one meal with them. She had to work though Dean's weekly family luncheon at school. Even Dean had missed her at that one. He would have been hard pressed to admit it, that one, but he did. Liz always brought pie with her to the cafeteria. Always brought Dean's favorite. Always asked about how many times the teacher called on Dean. Always asked how many times he got the right answer. Despite Dean's bravado and machismo, he was always eager to tell her how smart he was and to listen to her stroke his little ego afterwards.

Sammy woke asking for "Yiz" and then he went to bed asking for "Yiz" and John had to echo the sentiment. Jim had made the odd comment here and there about her absence; may have passed on that a concerned parishioner had expressed worries that Liz might be hanging out at that biker bar across the tracks. The same bar owned by Stan, who John had once punched out because he felt like a fight. Who was brother to Angela, Liz's boss and John's number one fan. So come Sunday afternoon, John was full of worries about having made the wrong move on her. About what it had meant, if it had meant anything. John honestly hadn't felt this way since he was 17. Before the war. Before going steady with Mary. Those memories didn't help matters.

After lunch, Jim took the boys to town for cookies. Liz lounged in the den with the newspaper. John just watched her read for the longest time. Her shirt fell off the shoulder like the girls on Mtv. He didn't watch that crap but Dean sure tried. Difference was, Liz wore layers so her whole shoulder wasn't exposed. Somehow made it less… trashy. Her hair was growing out but he suspected that she was going to trim it back soon. Grabbing their jackets, he moved to stand over her. "Feel like a walk?"

Liz tilted her head at him and glanced outside. "Sure."

She let him help her into her jacket. He led the way. A stroll in Minnesota autumn. The park was empty. Everyone else at home watching the game. Having Sunday dinners. They walked in silence for a very long time. Then Liz grinned up at him. "I think I'm not used to seeing such colorful falls. I… the way I feel when I look up at all these trees with all these colors… I just… want to roll in a big pile of leaves like a kid."

John glanced around. "There's a big pile. Right over there. I promise I won't tell the boys."

She bit her lip then turned and ran, turned a cartwheel and landed on her back in the middle of the pile, laughing like a madwoman. Then she saw the tallest Winchester towering over her. He hauled her back to her feet but he didn't let go. Pulled her to him and let out a deep breath. She tilted her head at him in an unspoken question.

"Am I… too old to do this?" he asked her. She grinned and bit her lip but shook her head. "What's so funny?"

"Dean thinks you are."

"What does Dean know about what I'm talking about?"

She giggled and slid her hands up his arms. "Your son is a 26 year old mind in a 6 year old body."

John had to admit to that. He rolled his eyes and fixed his gaze off in the distance where there was nothing but trees. Orange and yellow and brown. Then in sharp focus a tree stood out; young and struggled amidst the older trees. "Wait. Dean's been talking to you about my love life?"

Liz burst out laughing. "He's part pit bull." Then she sobered up as a thought bloomed in her mind. "I'm not sure who he's more afraid for… you or him."

Took a moment to absorb her words and then to look her over. "You been hiding this week?" She didn't answer. Her eyebrows bounced once, her bottom lip tucked in. "From me?" No answer. "I do something wrong the night Dean was sick? Maybe I read something wrong?" Still, no answer. She pulled away and walked slowly down the path to a bench between two trees. She scooted back until she was flush against one tree, giving room for John to sit on the other end. He stared at her. "Just tell me if I got it wrong." Her only answer was to rest her foot on his leg. "Is this one of those women games? I gotta tell you, I'm really bad at these things."

"So, what are you good at?" Liz cleared her throat.

"Cars."

"You always liked cars?"

"I guess." He shrugged. "My dad was a mechanic. His dad. My dad's uncles… just something in the blood, I guess."

"You like your car?"

"I love my car." He grinned.

"How did you get your car?"

John turned to straddle the bench, scooting closer. "I was… uh… just home from the war. I had big plans. Buy a ring. Buy a car. Get the girl. Settle down."

"The war?" She frowned.

His smile faltered. "I was… sniper corp. in the Marines. I served in Vietnam." She shook her head. "Best left in the past." She nodded that she agreed. "Anyway… I had these plans with Mary and we agreed that I would buy a VW bus. We'd run away and live in the bus and raise our kids in it…"

"Okay… obviously, you didn't get the bus." She led him on.

"Funny thing happened… Met some man in a diner back home. He was a mess when he walked in. I bought him a cup of coffee. I guess I woke him up. He had that look to him. I'd seen it on men come back from the war. Spent their nights drinking and fighting and their days wishing it were night so they could drink and fight." His eyes went far away for a moment. "Guys like that don't sleep much and when they do… They're in hell. I was just trying to warm him up. Get him some caffeine to get him on to night. Well, I was closing the deal on the bus when he walks up and shows me the Impala sitting next to the bus… I had been eying it for a while but… a car like that is a lot of work. He spat out a bunch of stuff I already knew about its beating heart and I was crunching the numbers. Saw the back seat. Room enough for a couple to fool around in." She giggled and he laid a hand on her calf, scooting himself under it. Not so subtle. "Or to stow a couple of kids in." he let out a slow breath. "I'd worked on monsters like that one all my life. Other people's cars. I didn't have much but Uncle Sam saw to it that I could afford it. I had plans. What kind of customers does a mechanic attract if he drives a beat up bus?"

"So you bought the Impala."

"I did and Mary said she wasn't pissed… She was pissed." His eyes went dark for a moment but then bounced right back. Right there. Liz understood right in that look what Mary had seen in John. The hope. Despite everything there was still room for hope. "Dean loves the car. More than I do, I think. He learns every little thing I teach him about it. When we work on it together… I can see his little hands itching to take the tools to it."

"Well, he wants to be just like his daddy." She teased lightly, fighting the urge to move her leg even a fraction in invitation. She had spit shook on it. She wasn't going to make the choice for John.

"In a lot of ways maybe."

"You think there's even a single way that he doesn't want to be like you?"

His hands moved on their own, from her jean-clad shins to her thighs, pulling himself along, finally gripping her hips and pulling her right on top of his thighs. "Well, I know for a fact that he does not want to be close to you. Don't take it personal. He has this thing about girls and cooties. He made me get a cootie shot after last week. Wouldn't say why."

"I think he might have seen a little more than he let on that night." She rested the backs of her hands against his chest. She wanted to grip him and hold him to her but… she had made that little bastard a promise and she was going to keep it.

His tongue swept over his bottom lip. "How much?"

"Some." Her eyes followed the movement but she held her tongue still. She would not do it. It was low and desperate and she would not do it.

Then his nose nudged hers. Would not do it. And his lips brushed hers softly. It was barely a kiss. It didn't count. "Like that?"

"Maybe something like that." Neither one moved for the longest moment. John didn't say a word and it unnerved her. "John?"

"Liz… you're shivering." Her eyes popped open to those hazel question marks. "Why won't you touch me?"

Every thought that popped into her head was an invitation. An innuendo. A plea for him to touch her more. Had to stay perfectly still so that she could not be accused of making the first move. Their position be damned, she hadn't invited this. She had just let it happen. Let his warm hands wander over her body like she was a statue. The sigh floated out of her body before she could stop it.

Then his lips came crashing down on hers. Her move. Sliding her arms around his neck, she scooted closer, their chests flush together and a groan rumbling out of his throat. His hands slid down her back and cupped her bottom, pulling her closer and then they were falling. Off the bench and into the leaves piled up. Making out like a couple of teens in the middle of the park.

She had felt his hand slide up the back of her shirt, over the tank top… coasting up her ribs and cupping her breast. As good as that felt, there was the simple matter of their public setting. Pulling away for air, Liz sat up, John's hand falling down to her hip once more. "How long until Jim's back with the boys?"

--

Not long was the answer. When Liz and John stumbled in the back door with leaves still in their hair and clothes, the boys were already back and on a sugar high. Pastor Jim leaned in a doorway. "John, your boys are killing me."

Then Sammy ran streaking by. John scooped him up and looked him over. "Where are your clothes?" Nothing but giggles from the boy. "Dean!"

Dean skidded to a stop in front of his father. "Sammy took all off by himself. I told him no but then he started running and I couldn't catch him and Pastor Jim couldn't catch him. And that's when you came home."

John sent a weary look to Liz, who nodded. "Okay boys, upstairs. It's nap time."

"I'm too old for naps."

"Then it's quiet time for you."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

John buried himself in research after Liz joked about getting a ticket for carrying a lunchbox on Main Street. That was something that he could track. She had scoffed at him and walked off but he had been completely serious. Outdated laws were everywhere but only a handful of people knew them in their specific areas. He never did find the law. He knew he'd heard that joke before but he couldn't remember who or when.

Immediately after that, John spent Halloween, All Hallow's Day and Dia de los Muertos in jail following a brawl at Stan's bar. Liz and Dean had picked him up without a word about the drinking. While sitting in the discharge room, Dean had climbed into John's lap, placed a hand on each of his shoulders and told him "It's okay, Dad." John, and a couple of the station secretaries, had nearly burst into tears. Dean sat in the backseat while Liz steered them to Pastor Jim's. John was bloodshot and far too sober. His knuckles bruised.

Sitting in the driveway, no one got out of the car. Liz finally took a deep breath and started in on him. "You should have let me know. I put the boys to bed and Sammy woke up screaming in the middle of the night. I thought you had it. He had an earache… and I let it go all night because I thought you were with him. It wasn't until Dean came and got me…"

"Where was Jim?"

"Jim was gone on a retreat. He told you last week. It was just me and the boys. I took them Trick or treating and I took Sammy to the doctor and…" She cut herself off.

"Where is Sammy?"

"Pastor Jim got in right as I was leaving. Dean refused to stay home."

"Dean, go inside. See if Pastor Jim needs anything." John ordered. The boy did as told. The sunset glared at them. "I… refused my phone call. How'd you know where I was?"

"Angela told me this morning. Said your car had been in the lot all weekend and Stan was gonna have it towed. She only told me cause she wanted to make a bid on it but figured she owed me the heads up." She bit her tongue against a curse word. "Dean and I walked to pick it up." She faced him. "I don't know where this is heading with us, John… but I'm not doing this again. I'm not going to sit home and wonder where you went or why you're gone or if you're in a drunk tank or in a hospital or … lying dead on the side of the road. This is the last time I do it. Right now. This moment."

John nodded to himself long after she'd gone into the house. When the lights were turned on in the front of the house, John dragged himself inside and straight upstairs for a long shower. Once he was clean, he plucked Sammy from the high chair at the table and just held on while everyone ate dinner. His little ear was still red but Sammy chattered happily enough while scooping his peas into his mouth. Jim didn't address him in any specific manner but John had nodded that he understood that he was on thin ice where the pastor was concerned.

--

Thanksgiving. John had spent the last three weeks stealing kisses with Liz on walks or in the hallways or in the Chevy after work. A couple of times, he felt sure she was goading him into making the first move or else. He was definitely sure the time that Dean walked into the kitchen just as John had her cornered against the sink. John hadn't budged, just sent the boy a look. Dean had rolled his eyes and walked out with a "fine, you win." John had snapped his head to her. Liz had burst out laughing and pulled him against her. "Your runt gives his approval in such a nice manner."

Thanksgiving. A small affair at the pastor's. Liz did some light cooking. They ate a small lunch then Jim took the boys visiting parishioners with him. John and Liz took a drive. Which ended up with them parked beneath some trees. Which began with them seated in the backseat talking about nonsense. The demise of the Beatles. The demise of Bad Company. The demise of music as far as the 80s were concerned so far.

John didn't know or care anymore who had made the first move. All he cared about was how much skin he could touch and taste. How close he could pull her hips to his. How fast he could get all their clothes off. John pulled her beneath him, tasted the skin down her neck and the sweat on her chest. Quietly groping and slipping clothes onto the floor. John settled himself between her legs, brushing her hair out of her face. He almost chickened out. He opened his mouth to break the silence with something stupid like "I haven't done this since my wife died" or "I might not last long, it's been 2 years." But Liz covered his mouth with hers, pulling him down flush against her and then he gave up finding words. He should have asked before but he knew she had no memory of her first time. Neither of them had expected this to actually be her first time.

That had been a surprise to them both. Her gasp, her grip on his arm, the tears in her eyes. Comforting whispers, relaxing touches until she was ready to keep going. Afterwards, he watched her carefully but she didn't let that momentary confusion ruin the moment. It made something old resurface in his soul. It could have been awkward. She could have been upset but she ran her fingers up his arm and curled into his side but she didn't talk about it. She commented on the Skynyrd song playing and then the Kansas song but not on her first time with a man. Not even after the second time, or after the third time while they listened to tapes she had found under the seat. Then she popped in Zeppelin IV while he caught his breath, and with that… lying in the backseat with her draped on top of him, John felt something break free inside his chest. Just some little piece that broke off and faded away.

Watched her wriggle into her jeans once more, tuck her panties into his jeans pocket while brushing her mouth over his. Drove to the house with her underneath his arm. They washed the boys and she got them to bed with a story. They cleaned up themselves and had coffee with Jim in the kitchen. When they made the trek upstairs, John just followed her to her bed. Decision made. She had stood there, lip between her teeth for a moment before just leaning over to draw the sheets back. Fourth and fifth to follow before finally falling into sleep.

--

Jim was not impressed with John when he stumbled into the kitchen at 6 am looking for the coffee. John held up his hand for silence until he had drained half his first cup, and then motioned for Jim to get on with it. "This flirtation has gone too far, John. You can't lead her on. What happens to her when you get a lead on this demon?"

"Strictly speaking, Jim, this is none of your business."

"Down the hall from your sleeping children."

"Way I used to do it."

"In my home."

"Well that part was new."

"John." Jim started in on him again but Liz walked in, wearing John's USMC shirt and flannels. She poured herself a cup of coffee and tilted her head at them. "Good morning, Liz."

"Morning, fellas." Liz sipped her coffee and stepped into John's side. Automatically, his arm fell over her shoulders. "The boys are stirring… I figured pancakes? Slight break before the feast of leftovers?"

"Sounds wonderful, Liz." Jim nodded, his mouth set in a tight smile.

"I'll help." John cleared his throat. He kissed her temple and turned to find Jim's mixing bowl. He had intended to help to keep Jim off his back but soon found himself relegated to the table while Liz worked the kitchen. He did help Sammy up to drop his chocolate chunks and nuts into his pancake batter. Held Sammy to watch the batter turn into pancakes. Then had to repeat the process for Dean who added commentary. "Cool!" and "Awesome!"

Jim sipped his coffee and tasted his plain pancakes. "So, have some experience with pancakes?"

"Um… looks like." She grinned as she flipped a row for John's set. "Angela doesn't let me cook. I'm the floor display, she says."

"What's that mean?" Dean stared up at her. John started coughing and Liz smacked him. "What's it mean?"

John set Dean's juice on the table. "She's got a pretty smile. Like the mannequins in the store window, only real."

Dean's fork hovered over his pancakes. His eyebrow poised in disbelief at the lamest lie he had ever heard coming out of his father's mouth. "Dude, who do you think you're talking to?"

Jim took a deep breath. "Men like looking at pretty girls. A smart diner owner puts pretty girls out to waitress so that men linger at their tables and order more food." He patted Dean's shoulder. "Liz is a pretty girl."

"If you say so."

"Hey." John frowned at him. "Don't be a jerk, dude."

"Same goes for you." Liz warned him. She nudged Dean when she handed John his plate and sat down with her own. "Dean and I will always, always have Charlotte's Web."

"You swore you wouldn't tell!" Dean dropped his fork.

"I did not swear. I said that Charlotte's Web would be between you and I and it was. I held the book between us the whole time." She winked at him.

He scowled but shoved a bite of his pancakes into his mouth. As with all men, the way to their hearts is through their stomachs. "I guess these are pretty good."

"Be sure you thank the cook properly." Jim prodded Dean.

"Thanks, Liz." Dean forced out, then quickly shoved another mouthful in with his fork and fingers.

Liz grinned at him, then frowned when she caught sight of a knot in his hair. "Dean, what's with your hair?"

John reached over to inspect it. After a few tugs, he sighed heavily. "So, were you chewing gum last night?"

"Yeah, so?" Dean blinked up at them as he continued to shove pancakes into his mouth, smearing chocolate and syrup everywhere.

--

Liz wrapped a towel around his shoulders and plopped him on top of a stool. With the scissors, she clipped out the gum. Chiding softly to sit still, she went about evening out his hair. White blonde on the ends, all gone to the ground for the birds. Sandy brown, floated down in large clumps. She took pity on him and took the buzzer to the back and sides, leaving him something up on top to spike up. She giggled after his bath when she showed him out to use some gel to get the ends to stand straight up on top of his head. It felt so familiar, she ached. Who else had she taught to spike their hair?

Dean took the operation like a true soldier. He had marched into the living room, fully shorn, cleaned and dressed like a private ready for inspection. John had looked him over and nodded his approval, ruffling the now hardened edges and yelping in surprise. Dean giggled and tackled his father's knees in his moment of surprise.

By the time Liz had gotten there, John was under full assault by both of his boys. Dean took care of tying up the hands and Sammy got his daddy with lots of wet kisses. She felt Jim step up behind her. He squeezed her shoulders and leaned in. "I was upset this morning about the turn in romantic climate but I think it has some influence on John and his newfound joy in fatherhood. I don't mind so much anymore… not that my opinion counts for much."

"He's a good man." Liz whispered back. "I… feel so… blessed that he feels the same way about me."

"Have you learned to read the interminable?"

"Maybe."

"You really do him good, Liz. Just… keep it up. I didn't like the path he was on. This one feels clearer."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8

Liz learned a lot about John in the following months. This had been the longest he had stayed in one place since his wife had died. He loved his boys dearly. He loved his car, loved his tunes and playing Bad Company was John's way of saying he was in the mood for sex. His motto in that arena tended to be anything worth doing is worth doing right. He could grill like any Middle American man but was otherwise useless in the kitchen… and that included the toaster… all 3… plus the one he bought Jim to replace the original he destroyed.

Dean had only once commented on the fact that his father never slept in his own bed anymore. Once he had figured it out, the first week was spent with Dean's eyes peering around the corner. Liz had initially chastised him for peeping until she had seen the circles under his eyes. Then she had made John sit down with him to get to the root of it. Dean had been afraid John would go missing in the night and never return. That led to the night that Liz woke up to find herself on the edge of the bed with two children between herself and John, who was lying in bed, watching them all sleep.

That had led to the awkward conversation the following night on the porch. Liz with her toes tucked beneath John's thigh. The boys running around screaming in the yard with snowballs. John had studied his boys so hard that Liz had to ask him what was making him so serious. John had shrugged. "Just… wondering about… us… what would happen to the boys in a bigger family."

"I don't know." She had shrugged. "Moving around the way you do, I don't see how it's feasible… if you were settled and Dean is able to make more friends… he might welcome a bigger family, if only to relieve him of Sammy for awhile." She grinned. "Dean is such a wonderful big brother. He watches out for Sammy so carefully."

"You think about having kids?"

"Sometimes. I wish I had more to share with a family. I have no history but what I'm making now. I'd want to remember something to pass on."

"But you think about it?"

"I guess I do." She nodded at him. "I do have things I want for myself." She sighed and shifted so that she could lean against him and see the boys. "I dream about being married in a little house with a fence… with a couple of babies. I wonder what it's like to have a life growing inside me. To have a little girl to look at me the way Dean looks at you." She smiled a bit and leaned her head back against his shoulder. "Or even a boy to drive me nuts like his big brothers."

When he didn't respond with a laugh or even a chuckle or a snort, she peered back to look at him. He was staring out into the yard at nothing, his left hand in motion, spinning his ring around his finger. He stopped talking and Liz didn't know how to get him started again.

During Dean's bath, she took up residence at the bathroom mirror to work on her eyebrows. John watched her from the shadow of the hallway. Dean built bubble mountains, eyes fixed on her. He asked so many questions about why did she 'torture' her face like that. Liz only laughed and answered each question sincerely. Then he turned really serious. "How come girls have boobs?"

Liz choked on her air and then sat to face him. "What did your dad tell you about the birds and the bees?"

"Girls have innies and boys have outies. When they put the two together, they make a baby." John was suddenly appalled about the way he had handled that one but what else do you tell a four year old about the difference between boys and girls. Dean certainly didn't seem traumatized by the knowledge.

Liz let out a breath of relief. "Boobs come into play after the baby is born. They fill with milk so that the baby can eat."

"How?"

"Um, well. You see these things you got right here." She pointed to his chest and his little nipples. He gave her a skeptical look. "Everyone's got them. Boy and girls. You're a boy. Your chest is flat. Girls get boobs where those are. The milk comes out of those."

"Ew." His lip curled in disgust. "Why don't they just use bottles?"

"Well, long time ago, before there were bottles…"

"What? Ew… so, if there were no bottles, everyone did that?" John signed heavily and wondered how many years he'd get where boobs disgusted his son. Just then Dean looked up, always tuned in to where his dad was. "Did you hear this mess? Did you know this?"

"Yeah, I heard." John nodded.

"Uh." Liz peeked her head around the door. "Just how long have you been hiding out there? I've been dying in here."

"Just wanted to see how you'd do." John stepped into the small bathroom, taking Liz up in his arms. "You did okay. A-."

"A-, huh. Where did I slip up?"

"You identified more equipment than he already knew about." He brushed a kiss against her mouth. "You gotta keep 'em ignorant or else they want to know why for everything."

"Sometimes he doesn't answer my questions." Dean offered, staring up at them from behind his diminishing wall of bubbles. "He won't tell me why anyone would want put their outie next to anyone's innie." Liz buried her face in John's chest to smother her giggles. "Aw, c'mon, someone's got to tell me." Dean smashed his bubble mountain down into the water. "And don't tell me I'm too little to know. I'm almost 7."

"Hey, cool it." John chided him, holding Liz tight against him. "Some things you just got to wait until you're older to know."

"That sucks."

"You ready to get out?" Liz turned in John's arms to face him.

"You promised." Dean pointed at her.

"I keep my promises. You'll learn that about me." She picked up the towel from the rack and held it out, closing her eyes. She listened to the splashing as Dean got out and ran into the towel, closed her arms around him, wrapping him up in the towel. When she opened her eyes, John had just tilted his head at her. "Dean says I've seen too many Winchester wees for one lifetime and I'm never going to get a peek at his."

"You and Sammy have no shame." Dean tilted his head up to look at his father. "Showing a girl your junk all the time."

John snorted back a laugh. "Go get dressed."

"He's right you know. You're always waving your junk at me and wanting to play innies and outies and touching my boobs." She teased him after Dean had run off to get his clothes on.

"Oh, it's not all me, sweetheart." John backed her into the hallway. "Flashing said boobs at me and grabbing for my junk and shoving my hand against your innie."

"I never flashed you."

"You denied that one?" He laughed at the deep red in her face.

"How about you do story time tonight and then…" She kissed him softly. "I'll think of something… special we can do together."

"Boys! Bed time!" John nudged her to their room.

The day that John told Jim they were moving out, Jim pulled Liz aside and thanked her profusely for saving John's soul. When she asked why, he had told her to ask John about the moving date. He had put her off for a week while they worked and packed. Then one morning, he had poked his head into her room while she was doing her hair and mumbled around his toothbrush that it was time to load up.

--

Jim and Liz played a cruel trick on John the day of the move. They helped him move out and into the small rent house. When they were done, Liz climbed into the truck with Jim to leave. John had frowned, eyebrows drawn together as he approached with his trail of children, hand on the truck. "Where are you going, Liz?"

"Back to the house, I'm exhausted." She rubbed at her neck.

"I thought you said Liz was gonna live with us in the new house, Dad." Dean's pout was hilarious but he was quite serious despite all the obstacles he'd put in place through the evolution of the relationship.

John picked him up so Liz could see his face. "You gonna walk out on this face?"

Dean hooked his arms onto the door, allowing John to pick up Sammy, who held out a handful of grass to her, giving a toothy grin. "Yiz."

"C'mon. The boys can't go a night without you."

Jim snickered but managed a straight face. "Ever think of actually asking the lady to move in with your family, John… instead of just expecting her to?"

John bowed his head for a moment, finally getting it and lifting his eyes but not his head to his girl. "I didn't ask you, did I?"

"No, but the order to load up was romantic only in you were brushing your teeth at the time." Liz dropped a kiss on Dean's face and squeezed John's arm. "But you know… I couldn't go a night without my bedtime story."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Part 9

The house was small. It had two bedrooms and one bathroom. An open kitchen but little counter space and just enough room for a table and four chairs. The front room was the only extra room. John had found a sturdy but ugly couch to set in it. It took Liz two weeks to make a cover for it. The boys tumbled all over the small front yard, Dean pleading for a dog. Nights found Liz reading to the boys between their beds while Sammy dozed and Dean fought sleep. The door always kept open and the shade drawn with curtains pulled exactly from frame to frame. John was always the last to bed. Making sure every door was locked, window latched and doors cracked just enough to make noise if anyone walked through the house.

It took three weeks to fully predict the quirks in the stove but Liz made Christmas delicious enough. Had scraped her money together for recipe books, looking for anything that felt familiar but failing ultimately at memory retrieval. Dean made her a macaroni necklace at school and painted it all shades of orange and brown. Sammy had more fun jumping on his wrapping paper than he did with the fire truck he'd gotten to match Dean's. John had quickly covered his surprise at unwrapping a scarf but not quickly enough to tell his eyebrows not to give him away. He had gotten her a necklace, a locket, but hadn't made much fanfare over it or the pictures of them inside it; the picture of her one of John's favorites and the other was her favorite of him though he claimed to hate it. Dean was adamant that it wasn't Santa he had waited up for all night but had still whooped that Santa had known just which truck Dean had wanted.

Pastor Jim joined them for lunch and had offered to take the boys with him on more visits but John had insisted that the boys spend the whole day with him and Liz… just the family. Liz caught Jim wiping a tear from his eye as he walked out the door. She shut the door after him and turned to see what Jim had seen. John, playing with his boys and drinking soda… not whiskey. She could not remember the last she saw him drink liquor though he did take to beer when the game was on or he was working on the car. John with his beer and Dean with his root beer.

The boys were in bed by eight. John and Liz finished off the night with John's real Christmas present. The scarf had come in handy with that, too. Sitting in the middle of the bed, legs wrapped around each other, blessing the sugar crash that had knocked the boys out cold. Liz ran her fingers over his tattoo. Corporal. Sniper. Marine. "Do you miss it?"

"Miss what?"

"Being part of a unit like that?"

"Sometimes. Always someone in command with orders to give. Always others looking to you for orders… An unbreakable chain."

"You only miss it sometimes?"

"Well, there are no women in the corp… at least there didn't used to be…" He pulled her tighter against him. "There's the fighting. The killing."

"You were good at it… though, right?"

"Unfortunately for some people."

"Think maybe that's why you were good at that other stuff…" He didn't answer. "That you do for Jim?"

"Maybe."

"Do you wish you hadn't gone?"

"No." He shook his head. "I wasn't drafted. I signed up. I needed to get out of town. I was failing out of high school because I was helping out at the garage with my dad… I'd just started dating this girl whose parents hated me… Uncle Sam was offering money for volunteers."

"God, I wish I had something monumental like that to look back on." She sighed and fell back against the bed. "It's so bizarre to be this person who came to in a demon trap without even knowing that's what it was." She felt his hands, warm on her belly. "To not know where I came from or why I ended up where I was."

"Come back here." He slid his hands under her back to pull her back up to him.

"It's just disconcerting discovering what you don't know about yourself."

"Hey, this about us?" John's forehead furrowed.

"No… yea…. No." Liz growled and draped herself over him. "It was a little weird, thinking and feeling that I'd had this experience and then realizing that I didn't."

"I tried to make it okay for you."

She smiled broadly at the defense in his voice. "And you actually made it very amazing… the whole night, actually." Bit her lip when his posture changed to her ego-stroking. "I feel a bit like a Midwestern cautionary tale, though. Lost my virginity in the backseat of a Chevy to a Marine."

"I lost mine in a Chrysler to a cheerleader."

"Was she at least the head cheerleader?"

"Of course."

"Did she break your heart?"

"Um…"

"John, you dog."

"It was before I dropped out. Before I enlisted."

"Now you're a gentleman."

"I try to be."

"Could have fooled me." She shoved him back but had no choice but to follow him down. She ran her hands up his chest and back down to his stomach. She bit her lip when she poked his smooth belly. "Someone needs to take it easy on the cookies and beer."

"What?"

"I do believe this belly has formed in the last couple of months."

"I'm not 20."

"It's cute." She kissed his chest, rubbing his sides up his ribs then gripped his arms. "These are…" She kissed each bicep in turn. "so not arms of a thirty" she dropped a kiss on his mouth, "two year old dad."

"Quit trying to make me feel better. You're not doing a very good job."

"How about I stop using words?"

"That could work. Need a demonstration."

Liz did her best to make the best quality of curse words flow out of his mouth. John could do nothing but hold on for the ride. Until both their voices were hoarse from keeping the volume down, til they were covered in sweat and John bore eight red welts from Liz's nails on his chest. It was only a slight movement in the doorway that broke into their world. Liz yanked the blanket to her chest. "Dean?"

John's head whipped back in time to see a socked foot disappear into the hallway. "Shit. What do you think he saw?"

--

John took Dean to the park with a baseball and a glove. Liz took Sammy to work with her. Angela cooed over Sammy's big hazel eyes and long brown hair. She gave Liz another talk about seeing John. The real lecture this time because Liz was really living with him this time. Liz let her talk but she still greeted John with a kiss when he and Dean ambled in sweaty and dirty. "Is he okay?"

"A little scarred for life, but he's okay." John took a deep breath and glanced around to make sure they wouldn't be interrupted. "He… figured it out pretty much on his own. He kind of wanted assurance that… it didn't hurt." He cleared his throat. "He still doesn't understand why I would want to do something like that with a girl."

"Of course." She wrinkled up her nose. "Did he make you get another cootie shot?"

"Talked him out of it."

"How'd you do that?"

"Logic."

"It's gonna take fifty million cootie shots to get rid of those cooties." Dean blurted out.

"I could give you cooties." Liz turned on him and had him wrapped in her arms and his face covered in kisses before the first round of protests could erupt.

"I think you're good and covered in cooties now, son." John saved him from the assault by sitting him at the counter. "There may be no hope for recovery."

--

Hot dog Saturdays. The boys loved 'em. John watched Liz dance around the kitchen while the pot boiled and Sammy banged on pots on the floor. Working like a normal man again. Being a father the way he'd planned. Liz had been a Godsend. Showing him just what he was doing to his family. Mary would forgive him for keeping his family safe… right?

--

John watched as Dean willingly cuddled next to Liz. After months of avoiding her, even Dean was getting back to normal. This was the baby Mary had given birth to and not the boy Mary's death had borne.

1986 was going to be a new and better year. Sammy was getting so big. Dean was opening up and John… was living in the world again. He and Sammy built a log cabin while Dean and Liz read a big boy story. None of them made it to midnight but they slept as a family on the floor in front of the television.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Part 10

It was a gradual thing. One day, Liz noticed that John wasn't wearing his wedding ring on his hand. It rested against his dog tags around his neck, which she only saw at home after his shower. Then other people started to notice as well, sneaking Liz sly glances in the grocery store and knowing looks when she took the boys for new shoes on Dean's birthday. Then she spotted John coming out of a jewelry store. She'd just rushed the boys along because they were about to surprise John with a picnic.

It was just after Easter, on another picnic. A nice spring day with Dean at 7 and Sammy on the cusp of 3. Dean chattered like nobody's business about the little girl with the pig tails and too many freckles on her face. Sammy toddled everywhere after his brother. Dean the acrobat, showing off on the jungle gym, and Sammy getting no higher than the first rung.

John stayed planted right beside her, shoving food in his mouth like he was starving. Then it happened. John cleared his throat and stuck his hand in his hip pocket. "Liz, you're already part of the family but… how's about making it official?"

She let John slip the ring onto her finger before she tackled him with so many kisses he couldn't take it for anything but "yes!"

--

It was a whole day of Dean for John. Apparently, the kid had some serious questions to ask his father about what marrying Liz was going to do to their family. After which there was bath time with Liz performing her nightly ritual while Dean asked her all his serious questions. "Dad says you'll be his wife."

"That is what it means."

"But you're not my mom."

"No, but I can be your step-mom."

"Do I call you step-mom or do I still call you Liz?"

"Um, I think it's up to you." She turned to face him. "I think step-mom is a little awkward but if you don't want to call me mom, then Liz is still cool."

"And this is forever, right?"

"I hope so."

"No, you have to promise that this is forever. I can't break in another wife."

Liz bit her lip to keep from laughing. She spat in her hand and held it out to him. "Forever."

He spat in his and slapped it against hers. "Forever."

--

Liz snuggled against John in their bed. She stared at the diamond on her left hand. John brushed her hair back, peering over her shoulder at her line of sight. "I'm sorry it's so small."

"John, it's perfect."

"You don't want something more?"

"No, it's good. It's mine. My first… My ONLY engagement ring."

"Nice save." He gripped her ribs. He smoothed his hands over her belly. "You feeling better?"

"Better?"

"Dean said you were sick this morning." He chuckled a little. "He said you were upchucking so hard he thought your stomach was going to flop out of your mouth."

"Just a bug. I'm fine, now." She took a deep breath and took his hands in hers. "Two days, and it's official."

"Nervous?"

"Yes." She smiled broadly. "And I don't know why. Nothing's changing. We're still going to be here together. Still going to love the boys. Still going to love each other." She rolled over to face him. "I guess it's because… we're going to do this in the church. We never go to Jim's service. We know all this other stuff about this whole other world… and I don't know. It's just… having God bear witness to our commitment."

"How nervous are you?"

"Just butterflies in stomach nervous."

"Me too… I never thought I'd do this again."

"Was it too fast?" She rushed out. "Did we move too fast?"

"I don't know… I think we moved as fast as we needed to… I… had some talks with Jim about this… and… despite all his reservations. He feels this is right for us. His opinion means a lot to me."

"To me, too." She kissed his lips softly. "I don't think I could do this with anyone else presiding over the ceremony."

"Any possible stand-ins for the groom?"

"No! Definitely not."

--

John spent the day with his boys. Sammy, just shy of 3, and Dean all of 7 and a few months. Breakfast at the diner, football in the park. Lunch at a roadside diner, a movie. The video arcade. A full day of guy stuff with last minute questions from Dean. Did getting married mean more kids? Did more kids mean more work? Did more work mean John would go away for long periods of time? Did getting married mean that John would forget Mary?

John was more than ready for Liz to take over for a bit when they got home. The house was dark and empty. He got them set up with dinner and went about calling around for Liz. No one had seen her but they all figured she'd be home soon.

John tucked the boys into bed and got them down with a story and little fuss. Their room was dark and lonely without her. All her clothes were there. No notes. Just gone. John lay awake half the night, waiting for her to walk in. Maybe Angela had taken her for drinks and to talk her out of marrying him. Maybe she had changed her mind. He knew she wouldn't do that but it didn't stop the thought from crossing his mind. Around dawn, he started calling hospitals and the cops.

He and the boys were at Jim's early. Jim had no advice. When Liz didn't show for the ceremony, John turned to the bottle. The boys slept in their old room upstairs and John paced Liz's room all day and all night. He went over their last conversation and their last week and the last month, trying to figure out if he should have seen this coming. Nothing Jim said or did helped.

After the third day, John took his boys home and waited for a sign. Waited for news. He stopped going to work. He spent all day doing research and calling around. Angela claimed that Liz hadn't said a word to her or Stan. No one had heard anything. There was no trail to follow. It was like she had just vanished. John jumped back on the trail left behind from Liz's sudden appearance in their lives but it was gone cold.

When school let out, John packed up the boys and headed out of town, stopping just long enough at Jim's to say goodbye and to express regret at having ever pulled that girl out of that grave. Jim couldn't say enough prayers to save John after this. When he lost track of them, he cursed Liz himself, wishing she had never come into the Winchester's lives after this damage.

--

John took a pull from the flask in his shirt pocket, then pulled onto the freeway. After an hour, Sammy was asleep from boredom but Dean was silently crying next to him in the passenger seat. He waited until Dean had wiped the last of the tears from his cheeks and had caught his breath. "We'll be okay. We're always okay." John cleared the lie from his throat. "She was just a girl and girls are everywhere. There are pretty waitresses in every town. Quick to smile, easy to please and a dime a dozen. You'll see. This was no big loss. We're on a mission."

Then John had to pull over to catch his breath. The lies were too many, too fast and too easy to see through, even for his seven year old. His seven year old who hugged his father and whispered the same kind of lies back. "It's okay, Dad. She was just a girl. If she really loved us, she wouldn't have left. We don't need her.'

John took a deep breath to let the lies set in. Then he set Dean back on the seat. They stared at each other for a long moment. John finally reached up and took the chain from around his neck. The gold ring fell into his hand. It slid home like it had never left. Tags under his shirt, John started the car and sent one last look to his oldest son. "We'll forget her faster if we don't talk about her."

"What are you hunting, now, Dad?"

"There's a monster killing kids, Dean."

"Then we'd better hurry."

"Yeah, we'd better hurry up and get there." John breathed out as he pulled back onto the freeway. He pulled on his flask occasionally but he and Dean had said the last they would say about her. He ran Dean through drills on weapons maintenance. Signs to watch out for in a haunting. When Sammy woke up, they talked about the clouds and the funny shapes they made and no one even blinked when Sammy asked for "Yiz" after they pulled into a diner with a short brunette waitress. It wasn't her and no one corrected Sammy. Three towns later, Sammy stopped renaming their waitresses. 12 towns later, Dean stopped scowling at every pretty waitress who smiled at his dad and started making them smile at him. John never went more than a day without a drink.

End Book 1


End file.
